Page 188 of The Last One
I blink—the dark sky now burns with oranges and purples.
“I’m gonna look around,” Jadon says. “See what I can see. Maybe find Gileon’s trail. Hope to not see what I don’t want to see.” He waits a beat, then adds a chuckle. “You should rest.” He reaches down to stroke my cheek, but he remembers how tender I am and stops. “I’m sorry, Kai,” he whispers. Regret crackles across his battered face as he moves away.
And soon, I hear only my labored breathing, the snort of tired horses, and the tinny echo of a dying world.
58
My eyes flutter open. The daystar’s amber light signals that a new day has come.
A fish cooks on a spit. The burning wood crackles and makes soft smoke that smells of juniper wood and not tapestries, furniture, or tar. I see nothing else beyond that fire, that sky, and my companion.
Jadon stares into the flames. His face hard, his shoulders tense, he’s lost, deep in thought.
What would I hear if I listened in? I whisper, “Hey.”
He smiles. “Hey.” The smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
That deeper part of me finds joy just seeing him again—despite his betrayal, despite that strained smile not lighting his eyes. He’s the only person I have in these wastelands now, and as much as I want to hate that, my relief is a true thing.
“Your nose,” I say, circling my own nose with my finger. “It looks better. Not swollen.” And the bruising that had started to spread beneath his eyes has changed its mind.
“Still hurts when I do this.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Then don’t do that.”
For a moment, his face brightens, old-Jadon-style.
I push up from the blanket and hug my knees to my chest. I’m feeling well enough to move on my own, which is more relief. I nod at the spit. “That’s a big fish.”
“You should’ve seen the one that got away,” he jokes, but there’s no humor in it.
Irest my head on my knees. My bones, my heart, my core…all brittle. One fall, one ill-timed move, and I’ll shatter completely. Confusion and exhaustion bubble in my head and press down…down…down… I close my eyes and squeeze, even though squeezing may end me, too.
“I found water.” Jadon offers me a canteen. He doesn’t meet my eyes and instead focuses on sliding twigs through another fish.
I sip from the canteen and gag. The water tastes like dirty geld.
“I didn’t say it wasgoodwater.” Jadon frowns, rubbing a tense hand over his forehead. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you.” He hands me roasted fish with whiskers, which looks just about as unappetizing as the water tastes.
And it is. I gag a little on the fish—tastes like sand.
“Catfish,” he says. “It’s an acquired taste.”
“I wish not to acquire it, then.” I shiver, then spit out the flesh. “Thank you, though.”
He takes my portion and eats it.
“And there we were,” I say, “just a night ago, with raisins and honey, a soft bed—”
“Threenights ago,” he corrects.
“Three?” I’ve been unconscious for three nights?
We’ve most certainly lost Gileon Wake and his men now. Olivia, gone. My amulet, gone.
“Shit,” I say, my mouth dry.
“Oh.” He reaches for the saddlebag. “Almost forgot that I found…” He pulls out a flask and the smallest jar of honey I’ve ever seen. “What’s better than rum and honey?” He grins, and true joy reaches his eyes as he offers me one of two twigs. We take turns sipping rum and dipping twigs into the jar of honey. The best concoction of warm and sweet that I’ve ever had.
